


In the Darkness All Cats are Grey

by AkashaTheKitty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Mistaken Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-31 03:23:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12667224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkashaTheKitty/pseuds/AkashaTheKitty
Summary: Hermione has a secret assignation at the Ravenclaw dormitories. So does Draco. Seems like they both will get what they want, just not from who they thought...





	In the Darkness All Cats are Grey

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally posted on the 4th of March 2008. I crosspost it here on request. :)
> 
> [DelicateScholar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelicateScholar/pseuds/DelicateScholar) made me a lovely new aesthetic for this work.
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

Hermione was a bit tipsy. 

This was definitely against the norm as she didn’t usually drink—it was against school rules after all—but tonight was different. Luna had invited them up to Ravenclaw’s common room for a very unusual thing—a party thrown by one of the houses for, well, not all of the houses, but at least for invitees from other houses.

She was an invitee.

As were Ron, Harry and Ginny.

There _was_ a reason for this party, she had just forgotten what it was. Someone had done something clever five hundred years ago and to honor that, underage witches and wizards were getting smashed behind their teachers’ backs.

This was the ultimate proof that Ravenclaws could make poor decisions too.

Hermione wasn’t going to spoil anyone’s fun, though. It would really not do anyone any good, and she just wouldn’t receive an invitation the next time something fun happened. Her mind was elsewhere anyway, because tonight she was going to do something daring. Something wild. Something wicked. Something that was very unlike the Hermione Granger that most people believed her to be.

She glanced around the room. Oh, good. Ron was nowhere in sight. He must have left already.

She smiled and slowly made her way towards the Ravenclaw dormitories. She had managed to get a sketchy plan from Luna without being too obvious in asking. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, after all. This was one of the areas where she wouldn’t normally really have access.

It was exciting.

With uncharacteristic stealth, Hermione dodged anyone who might detain her and slipped into the stairway that would lead her up to the dormitories.

She would meet him in the boys’ dormitories, of course. Boys couldn’t enter girls’ dormitories here either. Well, unless they were the Head Boy and, lamentably, he wasn’t. Not that she was very surprised that he hadn’t been chosen, since he hadn’t really done anything to earn the position.

It didn’t matter, anyway. None of the Ravenclaws from fourth year and up were in their beds yet, and they had agreed on meeting at the fifth year dormitory. By choosing their younger schoolmates’ dormitory, even if someone did return early, there was a much smaller chance of them being recognized.

Hermione didn’t want to be recognized while doing something so reckless, so uncharacteristic of her. What wouldn’t people think?

The stairway divided and Hermione mentally went over the directions she had gotten. The stairs to these dormitories liked to divide and subdivide differently each day, based on a highly advanced mathematical formula, but Hermione was pretty sure she had gotten it right for tonight. She chose the right stairs and then the left and then twice the right again, before she went down another set of stairs and finally up and to the left. 

This should be it. He should be waiting for her behind this door. She gently pushed it open and…

…was immediately dragged in, the door slammed behind her with her pinned against it.

“What took you so long?” he hissed, but before she could reply, his lips were on hers, demanding a different kind of response.

Hermione blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the complete darkness. She couldn’t see a thing. She supposed that she didn’t _need_ to see and, in a way, it actually allowed her to be more bold, more brazen, but his assault took her by complete surprise.

She leaned into the kiss, softening beneath his lips, but instead of letting up, he got even more demanding.

This kind of aggression was so very unlike him. It was disconcerting and she couldn’t keep up.

She pushed slightly away. “W-wait,” she whispered breathlessly. The darkness seemed to invite keeping your voice down.

“What now?” he asked in a low and irritable voice. Something was off about him, about his whole demeanor. He seemed tense. He wasn’t usually this tense. He was usually pretty laid-back, actually. Perhaps he had had a bad day.

Hermione shook her head slightly to clear the webs. “You’re too aggressive,” she mumbled.

He was quiet for a second and then it seemed like he shrugged. This time, when his lips returned, they were softer, gentler, more caressing. Much more enjoyable. She relaxed against him and he drew her closer. For a fraction of a second he seemed to stop and frown, but then he finished drawing her in and deepened the kiss.

Hermione’s eyes drifted closed – not that it made much of a difference—and her hands trailed along his shoulders. Again she got this nagging feeling that something was off, something wasn’t quite… right. The height or the width or the angle of the shoulders was somehow wrong.

This, of course, couldn’t be. It was most likely because of the way he was tautly holding himself. Well, she would be sure to ease some of that tension soon enough. For now, she just gently rubbed his shoulders to soothe him.

He broke the kiss, allowing his lips to trail down her neck, gently nipping when he reached the spot where her pulse was strongest under his lips. Hermione gasped and moaned slightly. He had never done that before, but it felt good. It felt very good.

“I’ve wanted you all night,” he whispered against her skin.

“That’s why we’re meeting here, isn’t it?” she asked in just as hushed tones.

She felt him smile against her neck as he whispered, “Indeed.”

His hands, which had so far been resting quite harmlessly around her waist, travelled up her sides to cup the outline of her breasts.

He certainly was direct tonight.

He sucked in an appreciative breath and moved his hands around to cup her properly in front. She made a startled gasp and he bent forward again to kiss her, some of his earlier aggression returning with his urgency. He pushed against her and there was no doubt. He wanted her.

Of course he wanted her. This _was_ Ron, after all.

His hands had made their ways down again and were now making their way up under her blouse.

Too much, too fast.

“Wait!” Hermione whispered again.

He stopped with a pained groan, resting his forehead against hers. “Are you sure you even want this?” he asked in a low voice that hardly sounded like him at all. “Because, trust me, if you don’t—now is the time to tell me.”

Again, she was struck with the feeling that something was completely off. Perhaps it was merely the strain of thwarted need that now seemed to permeate his whole body.

“Of course I want this,” she hissed, “but you’re going about it the wrong way.”

“That’s new,” he mumbled. “Ok, fine. I never knew you to be so bossy, but why don’t you take charge, then?”

Hermione gave him a strange look. Or, rather, she gave the direction where she knew he was standing a strange look. She had been called bossy by him countless times over the past seven years. She didn’t dignify it with an answer, though. Instead she dragged his head down for another kiss.

His hair was softer than she remembered it. Maybe it was just the dark and the alcohol heightening her senses, but she liked it. She allowed her fingers to slowly entangle themselves in it, caressing the strands.  
He obliged her willingly enough in the kiss, but she could still feel it in him, the strain. He was really wound tight, and she would bet that he would like nothing better than to just slam her against the door and have his way.

It usually took him much longer to get to this level of need.

She slowly opened his shirt and ran her hands over his chest and stomach making him moan. She liked it. She liked it a lot. The way he seemed to need her tonight gave her a sense of satisfaction as well as a hungry, unsatisfied sensation deep in her belly.

She wasn’t a complete stranger to this feeling of want, of course, but she did her best to keep it down. She didn’t want to lose her head.

Having seemingly already forgotten that he told her to take charge, he bent forward again to catch her lips. As her hands slid down to slowly unbutton his trousers, he shivered, sliding his mouth across her cheek to her ear, where he leisurely nipped at her earlobe. Hermione sighed with the pleasure from the caress. It felt so nice, so unusual from his normal onslaught on her lips. Whatever had put him in a strange mood tonight, she certainly didn’t mind.

“Ron…” she breathed.

He froze. The stillness of his body was so complete that she could have thought he had been petrified.

“Is something the matter?” she asked, concerned.

“G—eh, Hermione?” he whispered, his voice so hushed she could barely make it out.

“Yes?” she softly inquired.

He jerked back and there was a silence.

~~~

Draco’s eyes were wide and staring at where Lucy was standing. No, not Lucy. This was definitely not the sixth year Ravenclaw that had propositioned him at the party downstairs. This was Hermione Mudblood Granger, thinking that _he_ was Ron Weasley.

No wonder she had been so hesitant when he had come on to her. _Lucy_ was a girl, with pretty blonde curls and seemingly innocent hazel eyes, who knew just what she wanted and when, and Draco knew from one earlier encounter that she preferred the rough and direct manner. _Granger_ , on the other hand, was a bushy-haired prude, who he had always figured would only do it in a bed with the lights off. She probably even needed Weasley to bloody seduce her every time. He couldn’t even fathom what she was doing here.

He didn’t really like Granger. No, scratch that – he couldn’t _stand_ Granger. But sometimes… when she was at her most annoying behavior… he fantasized about throwing her against a wall and ravishing her to the point where the only things that came out of her mouth were moans of pleasure.

And he had been about to do just that.

And he had never been as horny in his whole life as just now, when he realized who she was.

~~~

“Is something the matter?” Hermione asked again, now sounding alarmed.

“No, nothing’s the matter,” Draco finally whispered in the same hushed voice as before. He couldn’t risk her hearing his voice and realizing her mistake. He knew this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

She was about to object that surely something was the matter, but she was cut off by a kiss that was so intense it took her breath away. He braced one hand against the door and another on her hip and kissed her so completely that she was unable to think.

“Touch me,” he finally whispered against her lips. “Please. I need it.” He did. He really did. There was no harm in taking what was being offered, was there? So what if she didn’t know exactly who she was offering it to? He was a Slytherin and he wasn’t going to let go of his one chance to realize his fantasy.

She finally came out of her daze to realize that her hands were still resting near his partially unbuttoned trousers. She swallowed as she carefully resumed her work of liberating him of his clothes. She didn’t really understand what had changed, but something had. He was holding himself differently, more intensely. His aggression had changed. In a way he was more gentle, more careful not to be rough with her, but at the same time, he seemed more tense than he had before if that were even possible. It was as if his need had already reached violent proportions – which was silly, they hadn’t even done anything yet.

“Touch me,” he repeated, pushing down the fabric of his trousers as the final button finally came undone and grabbing her hand and pushing it against his hot length through his boxers. 

He loudly moaned and shuddered at the contact and she felt his hardness jerk slightly under her hand. She slowly wrapped her hand around the outline of him and carefully rubbed, knowing it would drive him insane but not grant him release.

His head fell forwards and it was becoming obvious from his gasping breaths that he really desperately needed her.

She liked that feeling. It sparked a similar feeling of urgent need within her. She really shouldn’t encourage that, but it felt so good.

“I’ve wanted you for years,” he hoarsely whispered.

She raised an eyebrow although he couldn’t see it. “I thought it was just ‘all night’.”

“Every night,” he mumbled.

Hermione blushed slightly. He seemed to know just what to say tonight. She stepped closer to him and softly kissed his lips, enjoying the shivers that ran through him as he tried to hold back, and then she yanked his boxers down, allowing him to spring free.

He gasped as her hand briefly brushed him.

“It’s not fair,” he whispered. “You’re still all dressed.”

“You know the rules,” she replied.

“The rules…” Did he sound confused? “Right.”

“You’re acting strange tonight,” she said. “Are you all right?”

There was the briefest of pauses. “I had something to drink,” he whispered. “It affected me more than I thought, I’m sorry.”

Hermione shrugged even though he couldn’t see. “So did I,” she replied. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You did?” he asked, not sure why he was even surprised. She had, after all, met up with Weasel, or so she thought, in order to shag him in the _Ravenclaw dormitories_. It seemed she was more adventurous than he had given her credit for.

“Mmhmm,” she mumbled, stepping closer to him to nuzzle his neck while her hand went down to leisurely stroke him. His breath caught. “You know,” she added. “You feel different tonight.”

He instinctively jerked back a little. “Um, the circumstances,” he replied. “It’s new and exciting and all that.”

“Hmm…” she murmured. “But wasn’t the broom closet down in the dungeons new and exciting as well?”

Draco stared in her direction in the darkness.

_She’s done it in the dungeons?_

He hadn’t thought he could get any harder.

“Must be the alcohol,” she concluded as if to herself as she ran her lips down his chest.

He would go mad if he didn’t have her soon, but he knew that he needed to be careful in order to not reveal himself by breaking her ‘rules’.

“You sure you can’t just remove your blouse?” he asked in a husky whisper. “I would really love to feel you…”

“Ah-ah-ah,” she admonished and he silently cursed—who, he wasn’t sure.

“Hermione,” he implored, careful not to raise his voice to a recognizable level, “you’re driving me insane. Please don’t tease. I need you, now.”

She didn’t reply; instead she dropped to her knees. His eyes widened and his mouth went dry. She wasn’t really going to…? The second he felt her breath on him, his mind went completely blank.

She had grabbed a firm hold of him and then… Draco braced himself against the door and her shoulder, fighting hard to keep his breath steady and not buck his hips against her. Dear Heavens, this couldn’t possibly be real. He must be dreaming and he _really_ hoped that he wouldn’t wake from this dream any time soon.

Her hot, moist mouth was scorching him as she carefully took him in, letting her lips and tongue caress him in the most maddening way while her hand continued to stroke him.

He wasn’t going to last. It wasn’t the first time a girl had sucked him off—after all, there would always be girls sniffing around his family’s fortune, willing to do anything for a trinket or the off chance that he might begin fancying them – but this was _Granger_ and… damn, she was good at it.

He moaned her name.

She took him in deeper, as far as she could without gagging, and his hand tightened on her shoulder. He was beginning to feel light-headed.

He really ought to stop her soon.

Suddenly she seemed to take a deep breath, slowly exhale, and then she took him in much further than he thought possible.

He cried out in surprise and pleasure. _This_ was new. He had never been this deeply buried inside someone’s mouth before, the head of him was at the back of her throat and it was the most erotic thing he had ever experienced.

It didn’t make it any less erotic that it was the resident bookworm, who was doing it to him.

He swallowed, vaguely noticing that his entire body was trembling with need. It was really past time that he stop her.

She slowly slid him out again, her lips and tongue expertly working him and then she took him back in. All the way in.

He shuddered and his eyes rolled back. Merlin, her throat squeezed him so tightly.

This time as she slid him back out, she made a sound of pure pleasure that seemed to reverberate through his entire being right down to his toes as he could _feel_ it on him, vibrating around him. It felt amazing, he couldn’t hold back, he was going to—

He tried to cry out a belated warning as his climax took him by surprise. 

“Hermnnghh—“ The strangled sound that escaped his lips before he was too far gone to formulate words could hardly qualify as a coherent warning, but it was all he could manage. He didn’t even have time to pull away from her. 

He briefly hoped she wouldn’t be too upset about his faux pas, but then he was completely swept away in the orgasm of his life and there was no room for thought.

Once his sanity returned hours—or possibly just seconds—later, he felt his cheeks grow hot. Disregarding the fact that he hadn’t meant to come before he’d had her, he had broken the number one very important rule of oral sex—always let her know when you’re coming, don’t just blow it in her mouth.

It didn’t really bring him any comfort that she believed him to be someone else.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“For what?” she asked, her voice a bit shaky with her own unfulfilled need as she slowly got to her feet.  
He had lost count at how many times his eyes had widened tonight, but this time his mouth actually fell open.

He hadn’t heard her spit.

He invoked every deity he could think of.

“What?” she asked again.

He cleared his throat and tried to remember what they were talking about. Oh. Right. “Should have warned you,” he mumbled.

She frowned. Somehow he just knew that she frowned. “Warned me about what?”

He slowly shook his head. So Weasley just did his business without letting her know it was coming? What a gentleman. He really didn’t know what she was doing with such a commoner.

He blinked. Wait. That wasn’t right. Of course he knew what she was doing with such a commoner— _she_ was a commoner as well. She was just damn good at sucking off, that was all.

And Weasley, the dumb sod, had probably never even _been_ with another girl.

Not that he would need to be if this was what he was getting.

“Ron?” she inquired and he gritted his teeth. Couldn’t she just stop using the bloke’s name already? “I swear, everything about you seems so different tonight…”

“I just realized that I should generally warn you when I come,” he forced out, trying not to sound annoyed.

“Oh, that,” she said with a giggle. “It’s not as if there aren’t signs.”

He supposed that the taste of sperm could be called a sign.

She had tasted his sperm.

Hermione Granger had…

He needed to stop this; he was already getting hard again.

“Although, normally I do recognize the signs sooner,” she added. “But it doesn’t matter. Get straightened out so we can get back.” Most signs of her passion were gone. Only most. He noticed the slight catch in her voice that she tried to hide.

“Now?” he asked incredulously.

“Well, yes, of course,” she replied.

Again he found himself staring.

She had no plans of getting any pleasure for herself and apparently Weasley wasn’t the sort who bothered to argue that point.

He frowned.

Funny, he thought that Slytherins were supposed to be the selfish sorts whereas Gryffindors were supposed to be all about bravery, self-sacrifice and general stupidity. But then again, he had to concede that maybe it was a selfish impulse on his personal part. He did it because it made _him_ feel good. He didn’t think he had any special talents in the area, and some girls truly were close to impossible to get off, but when they were writhing and screaming his name and he could actually feel the fluttering inside them and know that it was real… he felt like a god.

Of course, he didn’t always get the girls off, but at least he _tried_.

Although, granted, he hadn’t even thought to try the first few times. He hadn’t known enough about how it all worked for that.

But if Weasley had been sleeping with Granger for who only knew how long, he shouldn’t just let her get him off without at least attempting to return the favor.

Not that she seemed very inclined to allow him to kiss her in such an intimate place when she wouldn’t even take off her blouse. No matter. She would come when he took her. He would make sure of it. He could tell that she was affected, so she wouldn’t be frigid. She would give as good as she got and he couldn’t wait to make it happen.

“Well?” she asked.

“I’m not done,” he whispered. “And neither are you.”

“What do you mean?” she demanded. “I know that y—“ She gasped as he grabbed her hand and wrapped it around him again. He briefly closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her fingers on him.

“Just warming up,” he mumbled. “I want more.”

“How can that be?” she asked, her voice growing thick with suppressed need. “Once is usually enough.”  
Another testament to Ronald Weasley’s immense stupidity, Draco decided. If it were him, he would lock himself in a bedroom with her for weeks before emerging. And then only go out for the most necessary provisions. As it were, however, he only had one night, and he was _not_ done yet.

“I need you,” he simply replied. She seemed to accept that and was about to lower herself again when he caught her shoulders. “No,” he mumbled. “Enough of that for now. I need _you_.”

She was still. He could tell she was staring at him. Before she could object, he worked his hands under her blouse and pulled it off her.

“Wait,” she gasped, slight confusion in her voice. “What are you doing?”

He tugged a bit at her bra, allowing her left breast to spring free and bent to suckle her taut nipple. Merlin, her breasts were perfect. Just the right size and her nipple immediately responded to his caresses, drawing into an even firmer point. He softly blew cold air on it and she gasped before a heartfelt moan escaped her lips. He freed the other breast, doing the same things to it, and her fingers somehow got buried in his hair, holding him to her.

It was easy to tell that she really liked this. Her hands made their way down his shoulders, her nails slightly scratching him, and he moaned in response, lifting his head and kissing her deeply.

~~~

The kiss surprised her. She wasn’t sure why it would since he was acting so strange today, much more as if he… well… _needed_ her. There could be no question that Ron _wanted_ her, but compared to this it didn’t seem like he had ever _needed_ her… before.

This _was_ still Ron, why was she almost thinking as if it were two different people?

He was just acting so different and in the dark it was easy to imagine that he might be someone else. That was all, she was sure. He had even felt differently in her mouth, but maybe that had to do with his apparent heightened state of need.

Besides, it was kind of exciting to think it might be some stranger she was doing these things with.

Truth be told, she didn’t mind the difference one bit. It was true that he was a little bit too aggressive in the beginning, but this way of him needing her… Oh, my! It made her feel much more desirable than she ever had before and it made her want to… to… well, to lose her head.

She had never thought he would have kissed her not more than a few minutes after he had come in her mouth, though. She hadn’t even had a chance to rinse yet! But he didn’t seem to mind or even care. He was pressed closely against her, his thigh between her legs, slightly rubbing against her, while his hands were still teasing her breasts.

She moaned into his mouth. She should be the level-headed one, the one to say no, but it felt so good. She was tired of being level-headed, tired of waiting for the right moment, tired of saying no.

His lips left hers to caress the slope of her neck before finding a particularly sensitive spot and sucking, hard. She gasped and clung to him as she saw stars with the pained pleasure of it.

“My mark,” he mumbled, sounding unaccountably smug. “Don’t hide it.”

She was a little confused by this sign of possessiveness but managed to mumble, “I won’t.”

“Good,” he breathed against her cheek. “I’ll be watching for it.”

Before she had a chance to figure out what he meant, he was kissing her again. The way his lips and tongue were massaging hers were rendering her completely unable to think.

~~~

Draco internally cursed that Hermione had chosen to wear trousers. Of course she had chosen trousers, that was the _sensible_ thing to do in this drafty old castle, but a skirt would have made for easier access. Also, she might not have had time to think, then.

As it were, he wasn’t sure why, but he had the impression that, right now, thinking on her part was bad.

He took a chance and slowly unbuttoned her trousers. At first she didn’t seem to notice, but then she gasped and tried to push his hands away.

Somehow he had known she would, but it still confused him. She was clearly no stranger to this and she did believe him to be Weasley… didn’t she? A pang of almost painful lust shot through him at the impossible notion that she might have guessed who he was.

What he wouldn’t give to hear her moaning _his_ name.

It wasn’t an option, though. She would never allow him near her if she knew. If nothing else, she was too loyal to her sodding Weasel.

“Stop,” she moaned. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” he whispered. “I need you so much…”

“We talked about this,” she said, her voice only wavering slightly as he nipped at her shoulder. “I’m not ready to have sex yet.”

He froze slightly before forcing himself to relax so she wouldn’t notice.

_She’s a virgin?_

_She’s a bloody virgin??_

It only made him want her more.

By everything that was right, he should back off. He should deny himself the pleasure of burying himself inside of her and allow her to go off and eventually have her first time with bumbling almost-certainly-also- _virgin_ Weasley…

… Good thing he wasn’t a Gryffindor.

“Just let me touch you,” he whispered, deliberately inserting a low and seductive note in his voice. “Let me make you feel as good as you’ve made me…”

“I don’t think it’s such a mmff—“ He broke her off by kissing her.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” he swore.

He meant it, too. He might be lying, cheating, manipulating and seducing her… but he wouldn’t be forcing her. If she really didn’t want to, he’d just have to go find Lucy afterwards.

And make sure they found a really dark room.

She hesitated and he pounced.

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her towards where he knew there to be a bed, stepping out of his clothes in the process. With the other hand he found his wand and quietly sealed the door and set up a ward that would give him plenty of warning if someone tried to enter the room. He doubted anyone would, seeing as how early it still was, but it always paid to be prepared.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Just making you comfortable,” he mumbled, gently nudging her towards the bed.

“I said I wouldn’t sleep with you!” she said, her voice gaining a harder edge.

“I know, I know,” he soothed her. “Do you really think I’m going to rape you if you lie down?” He didn’t have to fake the wounded note. He hadn’t forced her to do anything yet, had he?

“Of course not,” she mumbled.

“I can wear my trousers,” he suggested, wincing slightly at the thought of the discomfort that would bring. “But you really will be more comfortable.”

She would. And if she allowed him to take her she would be much more comfortable than she would against the door. His fantasy of him roughly taking her against a wall didn’t include her sobbing with pain from it because she was a virgin, so a bed would probably prove much better.

“So you’re claiming that you won’t try to get me to sleep with you if I lie down?” she skeptically asked.

He laughed out loud before he could stop himself. She froze and withdrew slightly and he hurriedly fumbled for her hand and pulled her back.

“Don’t be offended,” he murmured, trying to keep the grin from his voice. “But of course I will _try_. Sleeping with you would probably be the most incredible thing ever to happen to me, so how could I not? You don’t have to let me, though. I won’t force you. I’ll take whatever you’ll give.”

He hadn’t planned on being quite this honest with her, but she was smart. Lying to her or trying to evade her suspicions would only cause her to mistrust him.

He had a feeling that she needed to trust him before she would sleep with him.

Another reason why she wouldn’t sleep with him as Draco Malfoy. He sighed inwardly. There was nothing for it, though. She would never trust Draco Malfoy. There was no _reason_ for her to trust him, really. The only thing she _could_ trust about him was that he wanted to sleep with her and he would make sure that she enjoyed it too. Somehow he knew that that wasn’t enough for a girl like her.

“All right,” she finally said in a very quiet voice that he had to strain to hear. “But only because you’re so honest with me.”

She gingerly felt her way to the edge of the bed and he could hear her lay down.

He took a deep breath. Things were going in the right direction. “So, do you want me to put on trousers?” he asked, unable to keep the wince from his voice.

“If you don’t mind?” she hesitantly replied.

He sighed before scrambling to do the lady’s bidding.

This really had to be the most effort he had ever put into getting into bed with a girl.

He supposed that didn’t say a lot about the girls he was usually with. 

Had Lucy actually come to meet him, they would have been long done by now. He briefly wondered why she _hadn’t_ come to meet him, but he supposed she might have been detained or he might have taken a wrong turn somewhere. The only way that was ever certain from the Ravenclaw dormitories was the way out – you couldn’t miss that, just follow the stairs down.

He returned to the bed to find that Hermione had had just a little too long to think. She was stiff as a board and was all but flinching at his touch.

“Why are you so afraid of me?” he whispered, molding his body to her side and gently nuzzling her neck. “I’m not going to do anything to hurt you.”

“No, of course not,” she answered, sounding nervous. “But you’re so different tonight a-and I’m not sure what you mean to do.”

Her skin was so soft and warm against him, her pulse was beating rapidly beneath his lips and her hair was tickling his cheek and neck.

He wanted her so much.

He realized that he had never been with a girl who had made him wait before, either.

He really should start seeking out different girls.

She had re-buttoned her trousers, of course. He couldn’t help but smile at that. He slowly, so as to not scare her, undid them again. She stiffened a little but didn’t object. He gently kissed her lips and she seemed to relax a bit again.

Once more he had to wonder what she was doing with a bloke like Weasley. He was so… crass and ignorant. Not at all like herself.

It wasn’t his place to wonder, though.

He slowly slid the trousers off her and she was left in nothing but her knickers and the bra that was still caught under her breasts instead of covering them. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine what she looked like right now. He imagined she was flushed from both embarrassment and arousal and she would be staring expectantly up at him with her big brown eyes, all but begging him to—

He groaned.

“Is something the matter?” she whispered.

He shook his head and then, realizing she couldn’t see, answered, “No.”

~~~

Hermione felt the need to squirm and stiffened some more in an effort to lie still.

This was strangely embarrassing. She had never allowed Ron these intimacies before—of course, apart from trying to push for her to sleep with him, he hadn’t really asked for them—and she didn’t really know how one should act in these situations.

He was caressing her all over, running his hands up her legs and sides and down her arms, as if trying to form an image of her by touch.

She should have suggested he could turn on some light, but she didn’t want to let go of the darkness. It shielded her, protected her, made her dare these things that she otherwise would never do.

That and the alcohol, she was sure.

She felt him lying down close to her again. She could feel his erection pressing against her hip, through the fabric of his re-donned trousers.

“Relax,” he breathed into her ear. “You won’t be able to enjoy yourself unless you relax.”

“You seemed to enjoy yourself well enough before,” she retorted. “And I wouldn’t call _you_ relaxed.”

He softly laughed. “My tension wasn’t from fear that you might ravish me… It was from hope that you _would_.”

Hermione blushed, but she made an effort to relax the muscles of her body, breathing slowly in and out.

He groaned again.

“What?” she asked. She couldn’t help but be curious about his responses.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, allowing his one hand to slide up to her breast and squeeze it lightly.

She bit her lip and squirmed a little, but this time not with embarrassment. She actually rather _liked_ it when he touched her. This shouldn’t really come to a surprise to her, it was just that she hadn’t really had a lot of interest in it before.

“No, there was something,” she insisted, unable to let it go.

He chuckled, presumably at her tenacity. “You’re so sexy,” he mumbled into her ear. “Feeling your body move against mine… It felt good.”

“You groaned because I breathed?” she dubiously asked.

“I groaned because you rubbed yourself against me _when_ you breathed,” he clarified. “It made me think of other instances where your body might move… under me…”

She was about to answer something that would undoubtedly have killed the mood, when he decided to kiss her again. He positioned his body halfway across hers, his thigh between her legs and his erection pressing against her soft belly, leaning on one forearm as not to crush her, while his other hand kept caressing her breast.

She pushed slightly up against him and he pressed his thigh a little firmer against her, easing her ache just a fraction, as he deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth with his questing tongue. She moaned and he grabbed her breast firmer, slightly pinching the nipple. 

She gasped and made a strangled sound.

~~~

Draco buried his face in Hermione’s hair, his free hand grabbing a fistful of the sheet. It felt so good to be like this. No, it felt bloody wonderful. He was so turned on that he couldn’t think straight and she probably didn’t even have a fucking clue how hard it was for him to hold back and not just… just… he didn’t know what. Come, he supposed. He wanted to come again. But he wanted to be inside her.

And she wasn’t ready to let him.

“Ron?” she asked when he took too long collecting himself.

A bucket of ice couldn’t have gotten him to his senses quicker than that.

“Don’t call me that,” he snapped, before realizing his slip and biting down on his tongue hard.

_Stupid, Draco. Really stupid._

There was no way she wouldn’t call his bluff now and scream bloody murder before she ran off. There was no way he would feel what it would be like to make her come. And for what? Because he got greedy and didn’t want her to call him by the Weasel’s sodding name.

She was quiet. Really quiet. Too quiet.

He searched his mind frantically for any kind of plausible explanation that he wouldn’t want to be called by his name.

_Stupid, stupid Draco. You had your fantasy and then you had to fuck it up._

“Okay…” she finally slowly said. “What would you like to be called?”

His head snapped up. Was she asking Ron what he would like to be called, or was she asking him who he was? He decided to take a chance on her ignorance, however weak what he said would sound.

“Anything,” he whispered. “Anything you want. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you, I didn’t mean to. Of course you can use my bloody name. I… just… I was losing control, I’m sorry.”

He was apologizing too much. He told himself that that was probably what Weasel would have done.

What he said wasn’t actually entirely wrong. It wasn’t really a lie, either. If you twisted it enough, all he said was that she could call him anything she wanted, including his own name.

Ok, that was a stretch. He didn’t mind stretching.

“Losing control?” she asked.

Could she really be that innocent?

“I was about one whimper from you away from coming again,” he whispered into her ear. “But it’s no excuse. Forgive me.”

“Don’t be absurd,” she said. “You can’t come from a sound.”

He very much suspected that he could.

“And even if you were,” she continued. “Why hold back?”

“It’s your turn,” he mumbled against her neck, nipping his way up to her mouth. “It would be rude of me to jump the line.”

“I’m not keeping score,” she softly said.

_I am._

She seemed to still believe that he was Ron. He couldn’t believe his own dumb luck. Perhaps the moron had a habit of randomly saying nonsensical things like that.

He let his hand slowly slide down her belly to rest at the edge of her knickers. He would soon find out if she still suspected him or not. Gently kissing her lips again, he slipped his hand inside the cotton undergarment.

She gasped against his mouth and he grunted in an effort to fight down his own need. He had known about the dampness, of course, felt it against his thigh as she rode it, but to feel it on his hand with no fabric separating his skin from hers… to hear her sharp intake of breath as he lightly brushed over her… to feel how moist she was…

“I want you…” he whispered, “so badly. You have no idea, Hermione.”

“I think I do,” she whispered back and as if to make her point, she lowered her hand and lightly ran it over the most aching part of him.

“No, you don’t,” he gasped, allowing his hand to go lower, to slowly caress her folds. “It’s not just my body… If it were, don’t you think there were easier ways to take care of it?”

He knew he had offended her before she froze, but he was beyond caring for her tender sensibilities. There were some things he wanted to say and here, in the darkness, he could say them.

“It would be nice and easy if I could just wank or go shag someone less principled and that would take care of it… but it doesn’t take care of it, not for long. There’s still this burning need to possess _you_.”

“You slept with others?” she sharply asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. He would love to make her think that the Weasel was cheating, but alas, that wouldn’t get _him_ anywhere. “I _wanked_ , Hermione,” he whispered against her ear. “Again… and again… and again…”

He could feel her blush.

Good.

He didn’t think there was enough blood left in the rest of his own body to blush. He couldn’t hang on long enough to seduce her, it seemed, and he really doubted he could go for round three without rest. Bitterly, he resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to experience her heat around him.

He grabbed her hand and guided it inside the band of his half-buttoned trousers, where once more he wrapped it around him.

“When you come,” he said in a voice he barely recognized as his own. “Don’t be afraid to grab me harder. Let me feel it. Let me come with you.”

“I thought you were keeping score,” she murmured a little breathlessly.

Had he said that aloud? “I can’t hold back,” he admitted. “I’ll be happy to even the score afterwards…”

He grabbed the edge of her knickers and began sliding them off her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, sounding alarmed.

“I need better access.”

“No, your hand fit just fine.”

“Don’t worry so much,” he sighed. “I know you don’t want my dick and I guessed that you don’t want my mouth, so it’ll just be my hand, but I’ll get a cramp if we don’t take these off you.”

He slid them the rest of the way off and she didn’t fight him. She even obligingly spread her legs a little wider when he nudged her.

_Hermione Granger, nude and spread out before me, waiting for me to bring her to orgasm…_

He shivered, realizing that the scent of her arousal alone would probably feed his fantasies for the rest of the year.

Slowly, he brought his hand back between her thighs, gently brushing his fingertips across the firm little nub there. She whimpered.

“Hermione?” he quietly asked, but she didn’t answer. “Hermione?” he tried again.

“Mm?” she replied.

“Do you… Have you… I mean… You _have_ had one before, haven’t you?”

He didn’t stop caressing her. It was too gentle to really bring her any relief and she was fidgeting.

“You mean orgasm?” she asked. “Yes, of course. By myself.”

“Good,” he mumbled.

“That I had one?”

“No,” he smirked. “That you were by yourself.”

“Oh.” She didn’t seem to know what to say to that and he’d bet she was blushing.

Without further ado, he pressed a finger into her.

~~~

Hermione cried out and bucked off the bed, but in an instant he was covering her, swallowing her sounds with his kisses.

“Sshhhh…” he mumbled. “The room isn’t silenced. I didn’t think to do that.”

She didn’t care. She didn’t give a damn if the whole school stormed in right then. This felt bloody _brilliant_.

“You might want to loosen your grip,” he choked.

She realized she had been gripping his erection rather tightly. “Sorry,” she panted. “Did I hurt you?”

“N-no… just a nanosecond away from coming, that’s all.”

“I want you to come,” she purred. 

She did. She had loved the way he had shouted out and pulsed inside of her mouth as he had come earlier, and she had loved the way he had seemed lost in his pleasure even after his body had stopped coming.

“Temptress,” he mumbled and she giggled.

He buried his head in her neck and began slowly moving his fingers in delicious patterns, moving one finger in and out of her while another finger rubbed her nub.

“So tight,” he whispered longingly as if to himself. “Just one finger and you’re so tight.” He swallowed, his throat working convulsively. “It’s probably a good thing I’m not taking you,” he hoarsely added. “I’m so close. I would hurt you. I would not be able to hold back.”

His words were having an effect on her not unlike the effect his hand was having and she moaned again and pressed up against him. He shuddered and an answering whimper escaped him.

He was losing control, she could tell. He really was losing a battle with himself. This whole fight not to come was new to her… Usually coming had been the goal—although not _her_ goal—and it had been achieved in due course.

This was much more sexy, much more exciting.

She made a decision. Well, sort of. Maybe.

“You sure you would hurt me?” she quietly asked.

~~~

She couldn’t possibly mean anything with that question, Draco quietly berated himself as his whole body screamed for him to take her, to possess her, to come inside of her. It was just her infernal curiosity that made her ask.

“Maybe,” he said. “I don’t really know. But I wouldn’t last long enough for you.”

“How can you not know?” she pressed. “Which is it?” She pushed up against his hand. “Would you hurt me or wouldn’t you?”

He slowly withdrew his hand and then inserted two fingers, making her gasp in surprise and making him tremble when her body clasped his fingers so tightly that he could hardly move them.

“How does that feel?” he rasped. “Does it hurt?”

She shook her head, he could feel the movement.

He withdrew his hand and then tried three fingers, taking care not to scratch her as he very slowly forced them inside of her. So tight. “Now?”

“It’s a little bit uncomfortable,” she admitted. “But still nice.”

He slowly removed the extra fingers. “It might not hurt if I were gentle,” he choked out, barely believing that he was telling her this. “But I can’t be. It would hurt.”

_Nice job, mate. For a minute it sounded like she might actually let you bury yourself inside of her and thereby realize your fondest and most well-visited fantasy, and then you tell her that you will hurt her and leave her wanting. After all our hard work._

_Shut up!_

She was silent.

“Just come for me this way,” he softly said. “W-we’ll do the other thing some other time.”

_She_ would, anyway. With the Weasel.

He would definitely need lots of time in dark rooms with Lucy.

He bent down and swiftly captured her lips again, closing his eyes as he felt her body tremble against his. She was aroused enough to have the same heightened sensitivity as he had. He stroked her tongue with his, coaxing a response from her, and she immediately gave it.

He intensified his touching of her as he let his tongue mimic the movements of his finger and before long, she was gasping and arching up against him, reaching…

He broke the kiss. “That’s it, sweetie,” he moaned against her lips. “You feel so amazing…”

“Stop,” she panted, stopping his hand with her own.

He growled in frustration. So close and she stopped him? Did she live to torture him, to drive him insane with lust and then take away the thing that might slake it a bit?

Ok, her coming would probably stop his need like oil extinguished fire, but he _wanted_ it, damn it. He needed it. He needed to come at the same time as her, to imagine that it wasn’t his finger that her body was convulsing around, to…

“Make love to me,” she said.

He stared. Hadn’t she heard him before? He couldn’t repeat those words again. He wasn’t exactly a noble person—if he were, he wouldn’t be _here_ , doing _this_ , stealing passion in the dark in the guise of being her boyfriend.

“I’m close,” she said, her voice shaking. “Really close. If you try to be gentle, I’m sure we’ll both enjoy it.”

He opened his mouth to say that he couldn’t be gentle, that he’d most likely not even make it all the way in before he started coming and that he was then likely to just thrust hard and come harder, no matter what kind of pain she was in.

No sound came out.

“Ron?” she asked.

His eyes narrowed. Why should he care so much about her well-being? That clumsy fool Weasley would _certainly_ not be able to control himself. Whatever Draco did could only be better.

“What are you thinking?” she prodded.

“Hold on,” he mumbled, and drew back to urgently remove the offensive piece of clothing she had made him wear, before lying down next to her.

He felt her shiver in anticipation as his skin touched hers.

“You’re going to have to do it,” he whispered.

“W-what?”

“If I do it I will be too violent. You’re going have to straddle me, that way you have more control.”

He tried hard not to think about Granger riding him.

Was there any fantasy he _hadn’t_ had?

“I don’t know how,” she quietly said.

“You sit on me and you move,” he said. “It’s not that complicated.”

~~~

Hermione’s throat worked convulsively as she tried to digest what he was asking her to do. She had just thought that he would lie down on top of her and then their bodies would fit together.

She hadn’t thought he would ask her to do something so embarrassing. What if she couldn’t do it right?

Hesitantly, she moved to straddle his belly. He moaned and ran his hands up her thighs. Well, at least there was no doubt that he really, really wanted this.

“I-I don’t…” she said, hating that it came out almost a whimper.

“Scoot down lower,” he whispered. “That’s it… now lean forward a bit… kiss me if you like…”

She did as he instructed and then when she leaned back she found that he had maneuvered it so that she was positioned perfectly for what was about to happen.

This was it.

She hesitated.

“Please don’t stop now,” he whispered. “I couldn’t… I-I know I said I’d hurt you but I don’t think I will. Not like this.”

She heard the desperation in his voice. She could stop now if she wished, but it would be cruel to him. She had asked him to make love to her after he had clearly intended to just touch her. _She_ had asked _him_ to make love to _her_. She shouldn’t have done that if she wasn’t certain she would go through with it. He was clearly in agony.

But she didn’t want to stop. Somehow it felt like it _had_ to be tonight. Now or never.

She gently grabbed him, eliciting a grunt from him, and then she slowly pushed down…

~~~

Draco was grabbing the sheets so hard that he knew his knuckles were white. He couldn’t let go if he wanted to. He was using every ounce of self-control he possessed—and then some—trying to focus his energies on his grip on the bedding and nothing else.

Otherwise he would buck up against her to end his torment.

For a minute it had seemed like she might not go through with it and he had almost panicked. No, he _had_ panicked. Being so close and not having her… he just didn’t know how he would have been able to handle that.

She was lowering herself so slowly, so frigging slowly. Her heat was teasing him, tantalizing him… he needed to be inside her, moving, and she had barely taken an inch of him.

He shivered and a strangled groan escaped his lips.

She stopped.

_Dear God, don’t stop!_

“Don’t stop,” he rasped. “Please.”

She slowly began moving down again, flexing a bit to adjust to the new sensations.

Draco thought he might very well be going insane.

“You need to go a little faster,” he whispered, a pleading quality to his voice. 

“It’s… a bit uncomfortable,” she mumbled. “And I’m already a little sore.”

She pushed down just a fraction and Draco’s eyes drifted shut as he fought the urge to move his hips against her, just a little bit, to feel that tightness around him, completely surrounding him…

“Sweetie…” he croaked, “you _need_ to do it a bit faster.”

“That’s the second time you call me that tonight,” she mused. “You’ve never called me that before.”

“What?” he gasped, hardly in the mood for small talk.

“Sweetie.”

“What do I call you then?”

She stopped up as if thinking and he cursed himself for asking. “Hermione,” she finally said. “That’s all you call me: Hermione.”

He gently pushed up against her, just a little, just enough to make her go on. “Fine, then,” he sighed. “You need to go faster, _Hermione_.”

“I didn’t say I mind,” Hermione said, pushing a bit lower, making him groan with the sheer bliss of sliding into her. She was halfway down now.

_So tight_.

“I’ll call you anything you want if you will just move faster,” he said.

Merlin, he would even call _her_ Ron if she would just…

“Anything?” she asked, sounding slightly teasing.

“Anything,” he clearly stated.

She leaned forward until her breasts brushed his chest and her hair tickled his shoulders.

Did she even know just _how_ horny he was?

She bent to his ear and whispered, “ _My love_ will do.”

He moaned as he felt her breath on his cheek and he barely registered what she said. When it did register, he swallowed, feeling unaccountably uncomfortable. It wasn’t an unreasonable request from her to her boyfriend.

The problem was he was _not_ her boyfriend.

“Well?” she asked. She had halted her movements.

“My love,” he said, before he could think.

“Did you have a request?” she teased.

“Please move faster, love,” he whispered, hoping she didn’t take too much note of his slight change of endearment. It just seemed less… personal… this way.

~~~

Hermione took a deep breath, braced herself against his shoulders and pushed her way down, all the way down. Or rather, she thought it was all the way down until he grabbed her thigh and bucked slightly against her, burying himself to the hilt. He moaned and she cried out with surprise at the discomfort.

“S-sorry,” he whispered. “Didn’t… didn’t mean to hurt you.” He moaned again. “I wish you could feel how wonderful it is to be me right now, though.”

“And _I_ wish you were just a little bit smaller,” she replied with a slight wince. 

It wasn’t bad at all, though. She was sore, yes, but she liked the feeling of being filled out.

He laughed a bit breathlessly. “Not that big, honey. Although I appreciate the ego stroke.”

“I thought we established my endearment before,” she teased.

“Sorry… love,” he softly said. “But, you know, you need to move now.” His hands slid up her legs to her waist and then to her breasts and he groaned. “You need to move _now_.”

“Now, who’s bossy,” she muttered, but she slowly began sliding up, bracing herself on his shoulders and testing her balance. 

The motion sparked a whole new set of sensations in her and she moaned low in her throat. His reaction was instantaneous, he stiffened, his hands going back to her thighs, where they grabbed a desperate hold of her. She lowered herself again, this time feeling anything but pain, and the whimper that escaped her was pure need.

“Hermione, love,” Draco choked, “you really need to go faster be-before I lose it.”

She didn’t mind complying. She soon found a rhythm that agreed with her and based on the sounds from him, it agreed with him too. It felt so good. She understood why some people would go to great lengths to achieve this.

She also secretly liked being in control and having a male between her legs that was completely at her mercy. She supposed that might also be why she didn’t mind sucking him off. It gave her a heady sense of power that he was experiencing bliss because of her while she was the one deciding the pace, and she could give it or take it away as she saw fit.

She bent to kiss him and he returned it fiercely, setting her even more on fire.

“Oh, Merlin, you have no idea…” he whispered. “You’re my fantasy. I can’t hold back much longer. I’m going to have to rush you a bit.”

_Rush me?_

She didn’t know what he meant until he moved one of his hands up between her legs and touched her intimately as he had before. Only, this time, it wasn’t a finger inside of her.

The added pleasure was sudden and made her moan out loud as she began moving even faster.

“Yes, love, that’s it,” he gasped. “That’s what I want.”

His gentle rubbing, the hard length inside of her, the hand that moved to her breast to gently squeeze it, the kiss she bent to claim that rapidly turned to devouring… it all built and built inside of her until something had to give and she cried out her release as he thrust up against her, making it even more intense, as she finally convulsed around him.

~~~

Draco felt her orgasm around him, heard her moans and cries and felt her shudder, and he knew he couldn’t hold back. Swiftly, before she had even stopped coming, while her muscles were still squeezing him—oh, Merlin, she was so tight, how was he supposed to endure those muscles contracting around him?—he lifted her and positioned her under him, so he could feel her entire body from head to toe against his while he took her.

He wanted to take her. He _needed_ to _take_ her.

Without another thought in his mind, he drove into her, again and again, claiming her mouth and her body, and feeling her breasts pressed against his chest, her legs thrown around his thighs, her gorgeous well-kissed lips against his.

“Hermione,” he gasped, just to say her name. “Hermione. Hermione.”

He was coming. He tried to fight it a little longer, but it was no good. He was beyond any kind of thought or control and he just needed to possess her, to bury himself inside of her and let go of all the passion that had built over the last few years.

He felt it in his toes, in his fingers, in his belly. The orgasm was inevitable now. It had started.

“Hermione,” he gasped one last time before he thrust deep and buried his face in her neck, muffling the cry that spilled from his lips, while her hair brushed his cheek.

He had never come this hard. It had never been this good. It had never been this intense.

They said that reality couldn’t compare to a fantasy, but he would have to disagree. Reality outstripped fantasy by a long shot.

Even after his shudders had subsided he didn’t move. He felt too good. He felt more satisfied than he ever had before. He caressed her ear with his lips, then her cheek and, finally, her lips. He would miss those lips.

Then he realized what he had done.

She was a virgin and he had lost his head and been rough with her.

He jerked back. “Are you all right?” he demanded.

“I’m fine,” she softly answered.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I lost it. I’m usually not this inconsiderate…”

“Usually?” she sharply asked, pulling away from him.

Uh-oh. He could let her think that her boyfriend was cheating on her, of course, but it was really only going to upset her, and she’d figure out that he wasn’t Weasley as soon as she talked to the git and found out that he never met her here.

“I meant in general,” he said.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” she asked.

“Hermione…”

“Haven’t you?”

He sighed. He didn’t really feel he could lie about this. It was stupid of him, he knew. “Yes.”

“You’ve cheated on me?” Her voice was so low that he could barely make it out. And heartbroken.

“No,” he rushed to assure her, because… well, he hadn’t. “It was before, uh, us.” It certainly had been before tonight. In fact, it had been a couple of months since last time. He really wasn’t _that_ active. He didn’t sleep around just because he could, but he _did_ have urges and there _were_ plenty of girls willing to take care of them.

“How can that be?”

“You’ve always been out of my league,” he answered, wryly thinking that that was the case for Weasley as well. “I didn’t think you’d ever want me in this way.”

_Not that it matters much either way._

“Dragon dung!” she growled. “You’ve known how I felt since fourth year!”

“I lost my virginity in third year,” he quietly said, not even lying. Even then, some of the older girls had been trying to catch the attention of the next generation of Malfoy.

She was silent again.

“I wouldn’t cheat on you,” he softly added. “Please don’t leave this room angry.”

“Hmm,” was all she said.

He just wanted to lie down and go to sleep and possibly repeat what they had been doing when he woke up, but not only were they in someone else’s dormitory and she was angry, but they really should be getting back before they were missed and someone came looking for them.

He sighed and began trying to find and identify pieces of clothing in the dark.

Once they were dressed Draco realized the dilemma he was in. He couldn’t leave with her.

He did some fast thinking.

“You leave first,” he said. “I’ll meet you back at our common room. I have something I have to do.”

She didn’t reply. He got the feeling that she shrugged.

He caught her arm as she brushed past him. “Don’t be mad,” he whispered to her. “If I hadn’t… it made it better for you, for both of us.”

“Yeah?” she bitterly asked. “So how do I range on a scale from one to ten, then? Perhaps an eight?”

“Twelve,” he replied.

“I don’t believe you.”

“You should,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t mind… that is… I-I would give almost anything to have it happen again.”

She shrugged. This time he knew for sure, because his hand was still on her arm. “You’re my boyfriend, aren’t you?” she grumbled. “Chances are we’ll do it again once I forgive you.”

“Yeah…” he said unable to keep the regret out of his voice. He knew he wouldn’t get to touch her ever again. “I can’t wait.”

~~~

Lucy was standing at the edge of the Ravenclaw common room looking smug and for all the world as if life suited her. It wasn’t exactly what Draco expected after she had stood him up. He didn’t know _what_ he had expected, but not that.

“What are you up to?” he asked suspiciously.

A small smirk lifted the corner of her pretty mouth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

“Where were you? I was waiting for you.”

“Ah… I got detained. So sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry at all.

He narrowed his eyes. “Turns out that Granger had a meeting with Weasley up there and Weasley failed to show as well. Know anything about that?”

Her smirk widened. “Not a thing.”

He shook his head. Lucy was good. She was really good. She managed to keep a pristine reputation, while being notorious for always getting what or _who_ she wanted among those who weren’t afraid to bend the rules themselves.

Of course, Draco knew exactly what kind of person Lucy was. This was why they got along so well.

Apparently, she had had designs on Weasley. Or possibly she still did, depending on how it had gone.

“You owe me,” he stated.

She gave him an appraising glance. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

He shook his head again. “Did it at least pay off?”

She smiled vaguely. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

Which meant yes. 

Draco swallowed, feeling an uncomfortable sinking sensation in his stomach. He didn’t know why he should be feeling guilty when _Lucy_ had been the one with the schemes. “Well, good. I’d hate to see my—unwilling, I might add—sacrifice be for nothing.”

She snorted delicately. How that was even possible, he didn’t know, but she did it. “Is that so?” she softly asked. “Took you an awful long time to come down, though, didn’t it?”

He narrowed his eyes again, glaring at her.

“Don’t try that on me,” she calmly said. “I’m not stupid. I know you lust for her. I figured I might even be doing you a favor. So, did you make the most of the darkness? You did, didn’t you?”

Again, Draco was getting this very unpleasant… feeling. She made it sound all wrong. It hadn’t felt that underhanded and cheap. He looked away. “I don’t kiss and tell,” he mumbled.

She positively beamed. “Seems like we both made the most of tonight, doesn’t it?”

She began to leave, but Draco stopped her with a hand on her arm as she was going past him. “Did he at least believe that you were her?”

Lucy frowned in disapproval. “Caring doesn’t become you, Draco,” she replied, shaking off his hand. “She must have been good.”

“Just tell me,” he said.

She pursed her lips. “How is Astoria doing?” she asked, pushing the one button sure to set Draco off.

“You of all people should know that just because I have to _marry_ her when she finishes school doesn’t mean that I will have to _date_ her now,” he growled. “She has nothing to do with this.”

“No, and you certainly aren’t faithful,” Lucy coolly replied. “But it just makes me wonder… why bother caring what happens between Granger and Weasley when you won’t _ever_ be the one reaping the benefits?”

He didn’t have a reply for that and she left.

~~~

This was surreal.

Hermione had been thinking about what had happened in the Ravenclaw tower, going over Ron’s strange behavior in her head, and trying to digest his confession.

Somehow, she had just always assumed that he had been a virgin as she was.

How many thirteen year old boys had sex, anyway?

And he hadn’t seemed particularly… experienced… when they had been together in the past. In the beginning, it had taken very little to make him come. In fact, apart from today, he didn’t seem very much aware about anything that had to do with, well, _her_.

She had assumed that that bit came with having sex.

But perhaps he had only done it once. She hadn’t asked. But he had said _usually_ , which made it sound like he had done it several times and even regularly.

Recently.

He had been so strange. But in a good way, for the most part. He had made her feel so good, making her first time truly memorable. No, it wasn’t exactly roses and champagne, but that was fine with her. It had been _passion_ , showing her just how good making love could be.

And it could be good.

He thought he had hurt her when he had suddenly just switched positions and dominated her, but he hadn’t. Not in any way that mattered. Yes, she might be a bit sorer now, but the way she had felt him lose control over his all-consuming passion while he pounded into her, chanting her name… she had felt… needed. Cherished. Even worshipped. No, it hadn’t been gentle, but it wasn’t from a desire to hurt her, it was from a desire for… her. It made all the difference.

If she could just get past the revelation that it hadn’t been as special for him as it had been for her. How could it when he had already _had_ his first time?

It took Ron ages to return to their common room. Hermione was still sitting in a chair, thinking about what had happened tonight when he finally entered.

“I thought you told me to meet you back here?” she said, hard pressed to keep the annoyance from her voice.

Ron jumped. “H-Hermione?” he asked. “Uh… I did?”

Hermione frowned. This was not a good way to start. “Did you go back to the party for some more to drink?” she demanded a bit too sharply for her own liking.

He scowled slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” she drawled.

“Yes, really,” he replied. “Why did you stand me up?”

Hermione frowned. She was right here, wasn’t she? “What do you mean?”

“It was fine if you changed your mind,” he said. “But couldn’t you at least have told me instead of just… not showing up? I thought we were more than that.”

“I _did_ show up!” she growled.

Now he was looking confused and for all the world as if he were in denial. “No, no. Your message with the new directions arrived, I followed them and you never showed up. I-instead there was someone else.” He swallowed and looked away as if unable to look at her.

Hermione’s eyes had widened impossibly. “What?” she whispered.

“Someone else,” he mumbled. “Why didn’t you show up, Hermione?” he asked again. “You could have—You should have shown up.”

His pain was palpable. He had done something he regretted.

She had a very good idea what that might be.

Because if she hadn’t slept with Ron… then who had she just lost her virginity to?

And why wasn’t she feeling shocked, horrified or devastated?

~~~

“Fuck off, Malfoy!” Ron growled.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Not at Ron, per se, but at the whole situation. It wasn’t really as entertaining anymore as it had been a few years ago and even then it had mostly been taxing. Malfoy was always a prick and Ron _always_ rose to the bait—that was, unless Harry did first. Today Harry didn’t take it first because he wasn’t with them when they ran into the git.

“Better hurry to lunch, Weasel King,” Draco lazily replied. “You’re in charge of feeding your family, aren’t you? Better make sure all the _good_ scraps aren’t taken.”

Ron took a step forward and Draco grinned. Hermione decided she had had enough.

“For the love of—” she growled. “Grow up, both of you!” Draco opened his mouth, probably to say something about her blood status, but she didn’t give him the chance. “Yes, I’m Muggleborn and you’re inbred,” she said. “We get it already!”

Draco didn’t look very offended, instead he looked positively smug. “Weasel is inbred too!”

Ron snarled.

Hermione made a frustrated sound. “I’ll leave you two to your playgroup time,” she growled before she went off to return a book to the library.

“Our what time?” she heard Draco ask.

“No idea,” Ron replied.

~~~

Blessed silence. Hermione knew there was a reason why she loved libraries. The lack of males fighting, for one thing, made it a vastly better place to be. Alas, she couldn’t stay long. She had classes, after all, and she was late. She hurried into the hall, turned a corner, ran down some stairs, turned another corner and stopped dead just short of running into someone.

A blond, grey-eyed someone, naturally. In an otherwise deserted hallway.

Because there really wasn’t any way for the Universe to allow that he _not_ bother her for thirty seconds.

She sighed and waited for the inevitable insult to come.

Instead he just raised an eyebrow and stepped aside.

This was peculiar.

She was just going past him when she noticed his eyes drop to her neck, where her robe had slid just far enough to the side to show the mark she had gotten two days ago. A ghost of a smirk that she really shouldn’t have noticed flittered across his face.

_My mark. Don’t hide it. I’ll be watching for it._

She gasped, clasped the love bite with one hand and spun back to face him.

He looked slightly startled as she stopped and stared at him with wide eyes, but he didn’t comment. He didn’t say anything. He just returned her gaze. For a second something flickered in his eyes, but it was gone too soon for her to identify it.

It was him. She just knew it was him. She didn’t know how she knew, but she just did. She could picture his face and his body. It was most definitely him.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, he broke the eye contact and turned away. First then did she recover her ability to speak.

“It was you.”

He stopped without turning back. “What of it, Granger?”

“I… we… I… with _you_.”

He turned his head slightly. “No, _you_ did it with _Weasley_ ,” he calmly stated. “I was just obliging your little fantasy.”

“Why did you do it?” she whispered.

He shrugged. “Because you were there and I wanted to.”

And then he walked away.

Hermione was left with a few revelations:

Draco Malfoy was the one who had taken her virginity.

She wasn’t really that surprised.

And she wasn’t really that upset that he was the one, either.

**Author's Note:**

> [Constructive reviews welcome](http://malreviews.blogspot.dk/p/the-s-movement.html) (link goes to the S&R movement's info page)


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